


This Is Not The End

by TravelingSong



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lizzington as always, a scene I'd like to see in 5x8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 10:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TravelingSong/pseuds/TravelingSong
Summary: "Lizzie," he sighs and he can't manage much else, wants to tell her that he's missed her, that she needs to be more careful next time, that he couldn't bear losing her, but she looks so fragile, so unsure, and he can't help but kiss the back of her hand, anything to tell her she's safe."It's over, Lizzie. It's all over."





	This Is Not The End

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is inspired by some of the promos for 5x8. Red stays by Lizzie's side in the hospital. Enjoy and leave me a comment if you like!
> 
> (As with all of my fics, the events of 4x22 never occurred.)

Again. He can't believe fate has brought them together like this  _again_.

With her body so eerily still, the incessant beeping of the machines so insufferably loud in his ears.

With him by her side, watching and worrying, waiting for another beat, and another, and another.

He remembers a time in the back of an ambulance, a time when he had kissed her eyelids, her cheek, her fingertips, when her skin had still been warm against his lips, when he couldn't save her, the cruel reality settling deep in his conscience, in his soul, the agonizing certainty that he had lost everything. The damage done. The sensation of a broken heart.

Now, with her hand clasped tightly in his, he hopes that the gentle flutter of her pulse will carry him through the night.

He hopes that she'll look back at him in the morning.

He hopes that just this once, things will be alright in the end.

* * *

It hurts, she thinks. Everything hurts. Every breath, every infinitesimal movement.

It takes her a moment to remember, the betrayal and ambush, the blood on her hands and the gun on the floor, the pulled trigger, the realization that two shots had been fired, the realization that one of them had been aimed at her, the numbness that grew and how the door had opened,  _Red_ , the shock on his face, _I'm sorry_ , the way he had held her to him and how good it felt, _I was wrong_ , the way he had smoothed her hair and told her that everything was going to be alright, _I was wrong about him_ , the second everything turned dark.

And now, now she can sense his presence. And she's scared what she'll find when she opens her eyes.

She hopes he can forgive her.

* * *

He wonders if he imagined it. The twitch of her fingers, just briefly, the smallest sign of consciousness.

He waits, checks the monitors for any verification, and then, slowly, hesitantly, her tired gaze meets his and his lungs fill with air, the relief immeasurable.

"Lizzie," he sighs and he can't manage much else, wants to tell her that he's missed her, that she needs to be more careful next time, that he couldn't bear losing her, but she looks so fragile, so unsure, and he can't help but kiss the back of her hand, anything to tell her she's safe.

"It's over, Lizzie. It's all over."

"I'm so sorry. I thought he was..." She doesn't finish, can't possibly find the right words, an apology to erase the past, the guilt that makes it hard to look at him. It was an illusion and she knows that now, blinded by deception, but he's still here, still by her side, and that has to mean something. He could have left a long time ago. "Forgive me, Red."

"Oh Lizzie." The faint shake of his head and her name a mere whisper, kind and affectionate and  _soft_ , as if she never had to ask him for anything, as if the answer was always clear.

He runs his fingertips up and down her arm in comforting motions, smiles at her when he catches her staring.

"Would you like me to call the doctor?" he asks.

"In a moment. Can you just keep me company for now?"

"Of course." He moves his chair closer to the bed, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. There's no place he'd rather be.

"Where's Agnes?"

"Dembe is staying with her."

"And she's okay?"

"She's perfect."

He watches the worry leave her features bit by bit, watches as she slowly drifts off again.

"Red?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think you're surrounded by darkness."

He's glad her eyes are closed. He's glad she can't see the way his hands are trembling.

* * *

He keeps himself busy while she rests, finds an old newspaper discarded in the drawer of the nightstand and completes two crossword puzzles, checks in with the doctors to receive more updates on her condition. She'll fully recover, they tell him. She was lucky. It's not the term he would have chosen but they're right, of course. The bullet barely missed her. The wounds will heal. And then the difficult part will begin.

He doesn't really know where they go from here. He doesn't have an answer he can fully believe in.

"You look tired."

Her voice interrupts his musings, a bit scratchy but perfectly wonderful, and he leans forward so he can rest his forearms on her bed.

"Welcome back," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better."

"You'll be good as new very soon, Lizzie."

He covers her hand with his again, wonders if the contact is for her benefit or his own, watches her flinch when she spots the bruises and cuts along his temple.

"You're hurt, Red."

"Just a scratch."

"What happened?"

"Nothing of importance. We don't have to discuss any of it right now. It's not worth it."

He doesn't want to recall the events of the past hours, the past months, just wants to sit by her side. The details will find their way to the surface eventually, and maybe then they can talk openly, maybe then they can find the right explanations, the right words to alleviate the damage, the grief. The trauma that always helps them find their way back to each other.

"Have you slept at all?" she asks him and he admits that he couldn't have.

"There would have been no use. If something had gone wrong—" But it didn't. He needs to remind himself of that, too. He can still feel her pulse, can feel her fingers squeezing his in a reassuring gesture.

This is not the back of an ambulance.

This is not the end.

* * *

"What happens next?"

They spend a few minutes in companionable silence, the touch of his fingertips moving across her palm, her arm, up to her shoulder, gentle proof that he won't leave her,

something to concentrate on before she can't hold back the question any longer.

"We'll get you out of this hospital."

But it's more than that. It's the future that scares her.

"I don't know where to go, Red. My entire life…It's all gone. I can't go back to the apartment. I don't know where to stay."

He wonders if she's afraid to pose the question or if she simply doesn't make the connection. Because of course she has somewhere to go. Of course she has a place where she's safe, where she's cared for. A bed for Agnes. Her life put back together.

"You can stay with me, Lizzie."  _Please_. "Stay with me."

"I can't ask that of you, Red."

"You don't have to. Just accept my offer."

The one thing she wasn't prepared for. The irony bitter on her tongue.

The fact that after all the hurt, the deception and betrayal, it's an act of kindness that finally breaks her.

He doesn't hesitate this time, rises to sit on the edge of the bed and holds her to him as her tears soak through his shirt, mindful of her injuries, soothing words whispered into her hair and slow, steady breaths,  _I'm here_ , quiet reassurance,  _I'm right here,_ before everything goes still.

"I promise you, Lizzie," and he presses a kiss to her temple, to her forehead, to her brow, "we'll get through this."

The two of them. Always the two of them.

"Thank you," she tells him, a timid smile forming on her lips and him staring back at her and the sense that something has shifted. The sudden certainty that he feels it, too.

When she closes her eyes minutes later, she reaches for his hand and holds on to it.

The trembling has stopped. He's kept his promise.

Everything is going to be alright.


End file.
